


just want your tattoos

by musiclily88



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Magical Tattoos, Magical shit, Tattoos, Time Travel, i have no idea what to tag this, magic stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:29:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29652735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88
Summary: Someone turns into/becomes an aspect of their tattoosH/L tattoos
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	just want your tattoos

**Author's Note:**

> It got way cuter than it was meant to be  
> I meant it to be weirder
> 
> Also I wrote it in like two hours, and all errors are mine. Literally no one else read it before I posted it.
> 
> H/L tattoos fic

Louis, cigarette clenched in his lips, kicks up his skateboard.

The nondescript council yard is quiet of an evening. The non-descript-ness makes it all the more surprising when he runs into someone just as loud alarms start to sound above their heads.

“Fuck,” he says, veering sideways, pulling his skateboard to his side before immediately dropping it.

His hands hit a brick wall as his chest hits into an inexplicable stranger before him. Bloke’s leaning against the wall, and Louis’ hands hit the brick wall hard, but their chests hit hard, too. “Fuck,” Louis says again, taking in the face of the bloke before him. 

He backs up, kicking his skateboard to the side. He dusts his right hands against his ratty jeans before licking his bottom lip. Stepping forward, he cups one hand around the bloke’s jaw as a bomb hits to their right.

“Fuck.”

They run.

:

They fall on top of one another in an alleyway.

“You’ve got blood on you,” the bloke says, his body completely on top of Louis’, and they both groan.

“You’re on top of me.” 

Louis feels like puking, as his stomach is caving in, and he’s had way, way too many cigarettes.

“I didn’t realize.”

“Fuck,” Louis says next, shoving the bloke off of him. “We need to get out of here.”

The bloke barrel-rolls sideways, immediately hitting the other brick wall directly to their side. “I don’t know how.” He groans quietly, clutching his arm.

“I guess it is what it is.” Louis clenches his jaw, trying to consider how he can make a bandage or a tourniquet.

Or a garrote.

:

In the end, he makes a bandage and offers his jacket as a blanket.

They sidle together in ways that Louis isn’t entirely proud of. But they stay warm.

:

Morning turns to twilight. 

They crawl along the wall, with no one outright dead.

“This isn’t okay, you realize,” the bloke croaks, stopping his army-crawl. He dips his head down, moving forward into some kind of yoga-pose, arm still bleeding. He flails one hand out eventually, hitting at Louis’ leg.

“I realize.”

“Do you trust me?”

Louis snorts. “Not remotely.”

He taps at Louis’ arm and suddenly—

:

They’re on a ship.

“The fuck?” Louis crows, falling sideways, dipping way from everyone, side-eyeing the entire world.

They both land hard, and the ship is teetering side-to-side. Louis splutters as the ship tips him aside, sending his face into the deck, his face landing against the salt-soaked wooden boards.

Louis snorts water out of his nose, blinking hard. “Where’s the compass leading you?”

“What?”

“Where’s the compass leading you?”

A snort. The bloke—the stupid-looking bloke, with stupid eyes and a stupid mouth and a stupid jaw—snorts. “What?

“I know what’s going on, at least a little bit! Where’s the compass leading us?”

There’s a palpable pause.

“Or is it just me?”

“I—I, fuck.” The bloke grabs Louis, and he grabs back.

The ships tips overboard.

:

They land in tepid water. 

They’re in a lagoon, this time, and _this time_ the water is gentle. The water is finally warm.

Louis and whomever-the-fuck splutter to the surface. They gasp for air as the sky goes dark, hazy, dim, then light, then dark again. They gasp for too many moments, as far as Louis is concerned.

They splutter.

“Harry! I’m Harry, I’m Harry,” the bloke says as he grabs Louis by the shoulders.

“I’m still Louis.”

“I gathered.” Harry snorts, loudly, flopping his hair to one side.

They move towards a nearby cove for a moment until Louis flaps away, yelling, “You’re a fucking mermaid!”

“Not all the time!” is all Louis hears before they both sink beneath the surface.

:

Louis awakes, sunning on a warm rock, light in his face. He’s momentarily comfortable, and then it all comes floating back.

He flails up and sideways, nearly falling off the rock.

“Wait!”

Harry grabs him around the hips, but he keeps flailing. 

“Not okay, not okay!”

“Okay!” Harry lets go, tipping backwards toward the other side of the rock.

“The fuck?” Louis finally tries to right himself on the rock, flicking his hair out of his face. It’s easier said than done, as the salt water has clustered in his hair.

“So it’s hard to explain.”

“I’ve gathered.”

Harry points to his own clavicle once, then gestures to Louis’ neck.

“Oh fuck.”

:

“It is what it is?” Louis mutters, looking down at his ratty Vans and tattered jeans, clenching his jaw before tipping his head sideways to look at Harry. “Do we have to go in.”

“No.” Harry, if that is his name, rubs one hand down his face. 

His nails are black.

“Let’s try something else.” He holds out one hand, mouth going down into a sad smile. “Trust me?”

Louis sighs. “Not really, but what have I got the fuck to lose?”

He grabs Harry’s hand, clenching his jaw as Harry touches the inked rose on his own arm.

:

They land on their backs in a nineteenth century flower-garden that they are absolutely not dressed for.

Harry immediately starts laughing, yanking Louis up by one hand. “Auntie! Auntie Connie! Was this you?” He stands up and starts running. Inexplicably, he no longer has dark nails, or a fish tail, or an— 

Louis trips along behind Harry, mentally clocking the flowers and things around them—they’re not timely whatsoever, they’re not meant to be around at all.

They’re not meant to be here.

Ferns, bleeding-hearts, skulls and— 

“Fuck!”

And he didn’t mean that.

He didn’t mean that at all.

:

Bows and arrows and bombs and arrows and more skulls.

He touched something sensitive.

:

He’s immediately thrown to a dark five-tally where he’s reminded of the five times he attempted something he’s never spoken of, something he never has ever had words for, something he’s not sure he can ever, ever talk about.

And then he’s—

:

On an airplane. 

Louis rolls his eyes. 

He’s not sure why he hates airplanes.

“Would you like some coffee?” The flight attendant taps him on the shoulder.

Louis startles, feeling a bit lucky he has a coat on. “Actually, I’d like tea. Thank you.” He smiles at her until she leaves.

His smile quickly drops as he looks to his right. “And?”

Harry pouts. “She didn’t ask me if I wanted anything.”

“Oh my God.”

Harry nods, annoying slowly, biting at his bottom lip. “Now you’re getting it.” He purposefully presses at Louis’ horseshoe tattoo, and it may be something that he looks mournful about it.

It may not.

:

“I refuse to pull an _It’s A Wonderful Life_ with you!” Louis cries as they tumble onto dirt in the wherever-they-are.

“Oh, fuck.” Harry, crouching in bright gold-white robes, looks to one side. “I think you’ve kind of lost what’s going on here.” He points with one finger, smirking. “I’m starting to think you didn’t know you’re a demi-god.”

“I’m a fucking what now?” Louis grabs Harry’s hand. “Oh fuck, indeed.”

They immediately dip away again. 

:

“I’m shit at gambling, ” Louis say as Harry removes the touch from his wrist, just upon the diamond-mark, just along the spade-mark, just along the club-mark, just along the— 

“It’s because you choose to be.”

“Am I really a—”

“You’re what you choose to be.”

:

Then they’re just along the heart-mark.

And it’s not just because Louis knows what to do.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr:musiclily


End file.
